A Twist of Webs and Reality
by Cloudcity'sBookworm
Summary: Left in the care of their aunt and uncle at the age of four, Lizzie and Peter Parker grew up never knowing what had really happened to their parents. Then, one day, Peter comes across their father's old brief case which holds some clues as to what might have actually happened. However, they may have gotten into something that's way over their heads. *Set during the ASM Films*
1. Prologue

**For those of you who don't know, this is an AU to my original _Spider-Man _story, _Of Webs and Reality: The Story of Spider-Woman_. **

**Because of the events that have occurred in both _The Amazing Spider-Man _and _The Amazing Spider-Man 2_, things will not be the same as they are in the original _Spider-Man _films. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own _Spider-Man _in any way, shape, or form. If I did, Lizzie would be a cannon character _and _I'd have a part in the movies. Obviously, the only character I own is the OFC, Elizabeth "Lizzie" Parker.**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

"Five, four, three, two, one. Ready or not, here I come," called Peter from where he'd been left to count.

Lizzie, who could hear her twin's muffled voice from where she was hiding, stifled her giggles by covering her mouth. She didn't want to be found. Lizzie planed on winning the game _and_ round, thank you very much.

Their father had suggested a few rounds of hide and seek when he noticed how restless the siblings had become. He'd promised to play a round with them after he finished his 'project for the day', as he liked to call it. The only thing he had to do before sending them on their way was chose who was it and who was to hide. Peter ended up losing the coin toss, giving Lizzie the chance to choose whether to be it or not (she chose the latter).

The young girl stilled, not daring to move an inch further into the kitchen pantry. Even though four years old, Lizzie knew that as long as she went for the less obvious choice she could go unseen for minutes, even hours, if she desired. Besides, if Peter were to approach her hiding spot, all Lizzie had to do was bury herself even deeper into the tight spot she'd crammed herself in. She knew that it would only work if Peter didn't step in to further examine the dark, crowded space.

As she waited, Lizzie glued her eyes upon the white door, blinking her brown eyes every once in a while. Lizzie took this game very seriously. It was one of the very few things she actually had a chance at beating Peter (the jerk was basically gifted in almost everything he set his brilliant mind to).

Lizzie didn't know if it had been minutes or hours, but she eventually heard the sound of heavy footsteps a few feet away from where she was hiding.

"Peter. Where is your sister?" said their mother, voice full of worry.

"How should I know?" was his reply.

If it wasn't for the fear in her mother's voice, Lizzie would have stayed where she was, hidden away like a cave-dwelling monster. Opening the door, Lizzie peeked out into the kitchen's dim lighting, eyes squinted. "Mommy?" she said, making herself known.

Her mother, who had placed Peter by the stove, turned around, worry turning into relief.

"Mommy. What's wrong? Why are you scared?" Lizzie asked, innocently. "Did I scare you? I'm sorry, Mommy. I didn't mean to. Cross my heart!"

Tears clouded her mother's gaze for a split second before she wiped them away. "No, sweetie. You didn't. I just. . . . We need to get ready to leave."

"Why?" asked Peter.

Grabbing Peter and Lizzie's hands, their mother led them upstairs in a hurry. "You're going to Aunt May and Uncle Ben's."

"Why?" Lizzie echoed her brother's question.

"Because your father and I are going on a trip that we can't take you on."

Lizzie and Peter remained silent as they packed a small amount of their clothes and a couple of their toys. Even when the family of four got into their car and drove to Uncle Ben and Aunt May's house they never spoke a single word.

By the time the vehicle was parked in front of its destination, the rain had begun to come down even harder than before, as if to mourn for what was to come.

When they reached the front door, Aunt May and Uncle Ben were there, waiting to greet the small family. Before the adults talked, they placed Lizzie and Peter on the living room floor along with their luggage.

"Stay here. Mommy and I need to have a grown-up talk with Aunt May and Uncle Ben," said their father before he got up and went into the kitchen.

For the next passing moments, the Parker twins watched the quiet conversation unfold from where they stood. At one point, Aunt May looked where her niece and nephew obediently waited. Upon seeing their innocent faces, Aunt May gave a small lip smile. Pity, sadness, and love filled her kind, brown eyes. Lizzie always thought her aunt was pretty with her long, slightly curled, brown hair, gorgeous gaze which showed a motherly soul, and wrinkles which were earned after many years of smiles and laughter. Ever since she could remember, Lizzie dreamed of one day becoming just as beautiful as her aunt.

Peter hid his face, embarrassed that he'd been caught. Lizzie, however, continued looking at the people whom she loved the most as they got up and gave each other brief hugs. When they began walking towards the twins, Lizzie tugged on Peter's sweater sleeve. He had just looked up when the others entered the room.

"Daddy?" asked Lizzie. "Where are you and Mommy going?"

Stopping in front of his son and daughter, he told the twins to follow him. Once they reached the center of the living room, he kneeled down to their level and said, "You two are going to stay with Aunt May and Uncle Ben for a little while."

"I wanna go with you."

"Me, too," agreed Lizzie.

"No," said their father without missing a beat. Reaching out his large, calloused hand, he brushed Peter's bangs and kissed the top of his head, lingering longer than need be. Bringing his lips away from Peter, he turned his attention on Lizzie, doing the same as he did with her sibling. When he was done, he got up and led them towards the others.

Their mother didn't waste a second. Getting down on her knees, she brought her babies in for a tight hug. Bringing herself away, she stared at their sad and confused faces. She began to play with their hair and began to list off things her in-laws already knew. "They don't like crusts on their sandwiches, and Lizzie likes her's cut into the shape of a heart. Peter likes to sleep with a little light on, and Lizzie can't sleep without her stuffed dog, Scruffy. He's. . . he's in her bag."

"Mary," interrupted her husband as he helped her get back on her feet. "Come on."

"Oh, gosh," she silently sobbed as she was led to the door.

"Mommy?" called Lizzie, eyes full of concern for her mother.

Lizzie's mother looked at her. At the sight of the little girl, she lost it. As tears fell from her eyes, she forced herself to look away from her daughter and continued moving forward, never looking back.

Peter began to follow his parents. "Dad," he begged.

Their father looked down at Peter, his innocent, trusting eyes pleading him to stay. All their father could think to say in response was, "Be good." And then he turned and disappeared into the cold, wet night.

When the door was closed, Peter walked up to it and stared out at the man he looked up to. Aunt May, worried for her nephew, bent down and placed her hands on top his tiny shoulders as she watched her brother-in-law drive away.

Going up to her uncle, Lizzie pulled on the bottom of his shirt. "When's Mommy and Daddy coming back, Uncle Ben?"

Uncle Ben looked down at the brunette. He too wondered when they'd return. "I don't know," he told her, truthfully.

Lizzie glanced down at her new pink and white shoes. Why would her parents leave she and her brother in the care of their aunt and uncle without telling anyone when they'd return? This was the question that remained in the four-year-old's mind for the next thirteen years of her life.

* * *

**Yes, fans of _Of Webs and Reality: The Story of Spider-Woman_, Lizzie will be slightly different personality wise and very different appearance wise. No, I do not know if she will become Spider-Woman in this story. I do apologize. It _is _an AU to _OWaR_, after all.**

**I will try to post the next chapter as soon as I can.**

**One more thing before we part. How many of you have seen the new film? Wasn't it freakin', super, mega, awesome?! Max's character is the most tragic story I have ever encountered in all my readings and movie watching. I wanted to cry (and I almost did) and hug him tight. I can't believe how cruel people can be!**

**My father, who was my date to the movies yesterday, was kind enough to let me rant and get all of my feelings off of my chest. During this, he shared a comment that I think is absolutely amazing: "It just shows that we should appreciate others who are treated like he was; that we should accept them and acknowledge their abilities and their value as a person. If people had done that to him [Max], if they had given him the appreciation and credit he deserved, what had happened to him wouldn't have occurred."**

**Lesson of the day (and film): Don't treat others like crap, and don't make them feel invisible. People have feelings and should be treated with respect. You never know if that person needs a friend, a smile, or to be treated like a human being. Even a simple 'hello' or a 'how are you doing today?' could make their day or week. **

**So, peace out, my lovelies.**

* * *

**~Edited 06/25/14~**


	2. Thirteen Years Later

**Hello! Sorry it's taken so long. I've had a busy week. But don't worry! I've worked on this little by little since our last meeting :)**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

_Question twenty-four: How does the broken unicorn symbolize the character Laura? Explain and give examples from at least two passages which support your answers._

Lizzie groaned and dropped her mechanical pencil on top of her English assignment. Her friend, having heard Lizzie's distress, asked without tearing her sight away from the book she was reading, "What is it now?"

"Everything." The brunette dramatically dropped her head upon the table they sat at, only to quickly bring it back up when pain met her forehead. "Ow," she moaned as she rubbed circles on the sore spot, trying to lessen the discomfort she felt.

"Oh, no. Not this again," said Lizzie's friend with an eye roll, having referred to the teen's speech and actions. "You know, you can't use 'everything' as an excuse every time your brain shuts down."

"But it's true! Everything _is _wrong! I can't figure out what to write," exclaimed Lizzie, hands thrown in the air, silently saying, 'I give up with life.'

Glancing at the piece of paper, her friend gave an answer. "Laura is like the broken unicorn because she, like the unicorn, use to stand out, wasn't a part of the crowd. When the horn broke off of its head, it signified how Jim had broken her, signifying how it had helped her become like the 'other horses'. And I don't need to give you examples from the text because you're on the page which supports my explanation."

Looking down at her copy of _The Glass Menagerie, _Lizzie, in deed, found what her friend had just finished telling her. "Gwen Stacy, I love you," proclaimed Lizzie, jotting down an answer on her worksheet.

"I know."

Once Lizzie had finished writing, she moved on to the next question. When she finally reached the last question, Lizzie heard people running towards the other end of the outdoor cafeteria, chanting once they reached the place they wanted to be.

Looking up from her work, Lizzie noticed that a crowd had huddled together in a closed circle, their excitement coming off of them like static electricity. The eighteen-year-old shook her head and looked at her friend. "I bet there's either a fight going on or that a poor underclassman's being picked on," Lizzie thought out-loud.

Gwen nodded her head in agreement.

Not long after Lizzie finished her statement, a hush came over the crowd, a grunt of shock filling the still air. A loud _smack _echoed throughout the yard, and those gathered near the fight cringed, as if they'd taken the beating.

"Come on! Come on! Get up, Parker!" someone shouted.

Lizzie felt her heart drop to the pit of her stomach. There was only two people in the school who went by 'Parker', one of them being her and the other her twin, Peter. It didn't take a genius to figure out that _her_ _brother_ was getting his butt kicked.

Getting up on her feet, Lizzie began to rush forward, only to be stopped by Gwen. "Don't worry. I'll take care of it," Gwen assured Lizzie, one of her hands on the brunette's shoulder, before she strutted away.

Despite her friend's vow, Lizzie followed Gwen, pace full of power and rage. As Gwen went up to the bully, Lizzie pushed her way through the crowd until she reached her sibling. While Lizzie bent down to help her brother, Gwen shouted, "Flash!" The boy who had punched Peter turned to look at Gwen as she calmly continued with, "We still on for after school today? My house, three-thirty?"

A look of fear came over Flash as he gave a barely noticeable nod.

"I hope you've been doing your homework. Last time I was. . ." – Gwen strained her neck, adding emphasis to what she was saying– "very disappointed in you."

Flash, not wanting his private tutoring lessons to be revealed to the world, tried to get around Gwen. "Okay, move," he timidly demanded as he took a step toward the Parkers.

"No," said Gwen, tone firm. "How about we go to class? Hmm? How about it?"

As she said this, the bell rang, warning the students to get to their next class.

Realizing that he'd been backed into a corner, Flash turned and mumbled, "Whatever."

Seeing that the event was now over, the crowd began to disperse. It was like the fight had never accrued.

When Gwen glanced over her shoulder, Lizzie mouthed, 'You're a saint.' The blonde gave a small smile in response.

"I'll see you after class, Gwen," said Lizzie.

Getting the subtle hint that Lizzie wanted to help her brother on her own, Gwen nodded her head. "Yeah. Sure."

Once Gwen left, Lizzie turned her attention back on Peter. "You okay, Pete? Did he hurt you?" Lizzie asked, concerned.

Her twin, in response, gave her a thumbs up. "Yeah, I'm good. All he did was beat the living daylights out of me," he said as he reached for his camera.

"Where'd he get you?"

Peter gripped her wrist in his hand, stopping Lizzie from touching his face. The look his sister gave him was full of annoyance and worry. "Please, don't fuss over me."

Glancing down, both Peter and Lizzie gained an identical downcast face at the sight of Peter's beaten-up camera.

"You've got to be kidding me." Lizzie snatched it from Peter's hold to further examine the damage. "I can't believe it. Hurting you was bad enough. Did they really have to take it out on this little guy, too?"

Lizzie wouldn't have been this upset about something as trivial as a stupid camera if she hadn't saved up for it for weeks (it was her Christmas present to Peter four years ago).

"It's fine. I'll just. . . have someone fix it," said Peter, taking the camera out of his sister's hold. When he was back on his feet, Peter reached his free hand out for Lizzie to grab. She accepted it and was immediately pulled back into a standing position. "We better get to class," said Peter, walking towards his skateboard, which was only a few feet away.

"I don't, but _y__ou_ do. I'm free this hour, remember?"

Peter bent down to grab his dearly loved skateboard and held said board up in the air in a gesture of farewell.

Lizzie chuckled and shook her head when Peter got on his skateboard and rode away, leaving her alone. Sometimes she couldn't help but be amused with him while other times she either wanted to strangle him or slap him upside the head. Lizzie really didn't know what to do with him, nor did she know what she'd ever do without him.

~A~T~O~W~A~R~

The sight which greeted Lizzie and Peter once they arrived home from school was the same as it had been for the past thirteen years: Aunt May, in the kitchen, preparing dinner.

Lizzie felt her mouth begin to water from the scent of spiced meat as it sizzled on the stove. She had a feeling as to what they'd be having tonight. "Hey, Aunt May! We're back!" exclaimed Lizzie as she and Peter joined her in the tiny space. "What are we having?"

"Spaghetti and meatballs," replied Aunt May as she chopped away at some herbs.

_Yep. I knew it._

Without looking up, Aunt May slapped her niece's hand, earning a 'hey!' from said niece. "Elizabeth Parker, don't you even _think_ about eating one of those tomatoes."

Lizzie couldn't help but be amazed by her aunt's sixth sense. She also wished that she wasn't known for nibbling on tomatoes. When Aunt May turned and walked towards the stove, Lizzie snatched a small one and hid it in her jacket's pocket.

As the older woman passed Peter, she noticed the bruise which had begun to form on his jawline. "Oh, my gosh," Aunt May breathed, shocked by what she'd seen on her nephew's face.

"What's up?" asked Peter, looking away from his aunt once he glanced at her. After he hopped on top of the counter, Peter opened the bottle of apple juice he'd grabbed from the fridge and began to sip it.

"What happened to your face?"

"I'm alright," said Peter, waving his hand at Aunt May. "Just. . . . I fell, skating. It's alright."

Lizzie shrugged her shoulders when Aunt May looked at her, expression asking, 'Is that what _really _happened?'

Aunt May, realizing she wouldn't get anything more from the twins, sighed and moved on with her life.

As if perfectly timed, an old man wearing a pair of brown glasses waddled into the room with a look of concentration on his face, a nasty-looking cardboard box filled with trophies in his hands. When he was about to put it down on the island, Aunt May said, "Ben Parker, don't you even _think _about leaving that filthy box in my kitchen."

"These are my bowling trophies," Lizzie's uncle defended himself, as if the simple statement he'd made was enough to justify his actions.

Aunt May rolled her eyes. "Oh. Well, then by all means, please, leave that filthy box in my kitchen."

Lizzie covered her mouth with her hand to hide the amused grin she now wore. Her aunt and uncle were amazing people, and the relationship they shared was full of happiness, banter, joy, and good humor. Sure, they fought every now and again, but that didn't mean they were horrible together. In fact, they were the best couple Lizzie knew.

"What happened to you?" Uncle Ben asked Peter, having noticed the bruise, too, while he placed his box on the ground.

"Fell off of his skateboard. It was a totally epic wipeout," Lizzie said while she tapped her fingers against the edge of the counter top.

"I thought you didn't see it," said Aunt May, suspicion and confusion in her brown eyes.

"I never said that I didn't hear it."

"I swear, if you're hiding something from me I'll– "

"No. I swear, we're not. Honest."

Aunt May, deciding to leave it at that, shook her head. "Why you kids ride those things, I'll never know."

"Because it's stupid and dangerous," answered Uncle Ben. Looking at his wife, he asked, "Remember when we were stupid and dangerous?"

Aunt May glared at Uncle Ben. "No."

"Trust me, we were," Uncle Ben assured Peter and Lizzie.

After sharing a look with Peter, Lizzie gave her uncle a mischievous grin and asked, "Care to elaborate?"

Before Uncle Ben could say anything, Aunt May beat him to it. "No. And there's nothing to 'elaborate' on."

"You sure about that, Aunt May? I mean, there has to be _something_."

"Trust me. There isn't."

"Hey, where's all the water coming from?" asked Peter, gaze fixed on the tiled floor.

Uncle Ben- feet bare, pants rolled up to his knees- turned and began to pad into the other room. "Follow me. I'll show you," said Uncle Ben without looking over his shoulder.

"You serious?" said Peter, not in the mode to move.

"Yeah, I am."

Knowing that his uncle wouldn't give up asking him to come, the teenager got off of his perch and began the trek downstairs. When Peter had disappeared from sight, Aunt May resumed her task.

Deciding to settle in front of the TV until dinner was ready, Lizzie got up to leave. Before she even stepped into the dining room, Aunt May's voice stopped Lizzie in her tracks. "Before you even _think_ about sitting on that coach, you better return the tomato you stole from me."

Lizzie cursed inside of her head as she reluctantly returned the produce to her aunt's open hand. As she settled down for the next fifteen minutes, Lizzie wistfully thought, _If only I had that tomato. _

~A~T~O~W~A~R~

From where she sat, Lizzie could hear her aunt and uncle arguing about whether or not to hire a plumber to fix whatever the heck had been broken (Lizzie never understood that kind of stuff like Peter did). Instead of listening in, Lizzie attempted to pay attention to the rerun episode of _Buffy the Vampire Slayer _that was playing on the screen. However, all of this was put to a halt when Peter came from downstairs, shoes off and pants rolled just bellow his knees. He held a leather briefcase, eyes fixed on the old thing as if he couldn't believe it actually existed.

After a few moments of silence, Uncle Ben chirped, "I forgot all about that thing. It was your dad's. He asked me to keep it safe for him."

Lizzie, interested, muted the television and joined her brother and uncle.

"He saw it in the window of that leather shop over on 9th Avenue," said Uncle Ben as he placed the plates he held down on the table and took a seat. "He was nineteen. What does a nineteen-year-old kid need with a briefcase?"

"School?" suggested Lizzie, tracing the bag with one of her fingertips.

"That's what backpacks are for, sweetheart," chuckled Uncle Ben. "But, then again, he was the smarter of the two of us." For a split second, the old man's gaze was filled with a certain youth as he remembered the childhood he and his little brother had shared. "Guess who sold it to him?" he asked the brother and sister.

"I don't know, who?" asked Lizzie.

Her uncle's eyes twinkled. "Your mother."

This forced both Peter and Lizzie to look away from their father's belonging.

"That's how they met."

Peter and Lizzie shared a look, the story of how their parents first crossed paths new to them.

"He asked you to keep this safe? Why? There's nothing in here. Have you looked in here? There's nothing here," rambled Peter, confused as to why this less than ordinary leather briefcase was so important to his father.

"Your father was a very secretive man, Peter," said Aunt May, having moved from the door frame she'd been leaning on to stand beside her husband.

"Yeah, I know," said Peter as he continued to shuffle through the briefcase. A few seconds later, Peter stopped when he came across something that had caught his interest. Taking the object out, Peter stared at it, Lizzie doing the same. It was a black and white photo of their father and a man they'd never seen before. The edges of the thin paper were jagged due to having been torn out of a newspaper. "Who's that?" Peter asked, showing the picture to his uncle. "Do you know who that is?"

"It's a guy who worked with your dad, I guess," said Uncle Ben, his face resembling that of a naughty child having been caught by their mother or father.

When Peter did the same with his aunt, she gave him a startled look in response to his question. Having not received the answers he was hoping for, Peter dropped his arm and put the picture back where he'd found it.

"Just take this off of the table, alright?" demanded Aunt May as she closed the briefcase's flap. "We're going to eat. Off. And wash your hands. Now. Lizzie, turn that thing off," Aunt May called over her shoulder as she re-entered the cooking area.

Lizzie raised an eyebrow. Something felt off. She could feel it.

The twins looked at Uncle Ben.

"Go on," he said, dismissing them.

Peter, frustrated with how the situation had turned out, turned and made his way upstairs, his footsteps thudding as he climbed the stairs. Lizzie glanced between her aunt and uncle before doing as they asked, all the while thinking about what they had and hadn't told them. Lizzie didn't know why, but she had a feeling that they knew more than they'd let on.

* * *

**Thoughts? Ideas? Opinions? ****Sorry if the story isn't as original as you expected. Believe me when I say that there will be plenty of original chapters and scenes as the story progresses. **

**One more thing before I go. I've been slowly working on a Tumblr for both OWaR and AToWaR. It's not complete, and I'm still editing what I have done. I promise that once it's finished that I'll make a link.**

**Well, until next time, see you later :)**

* * *

**~Edited 06/25/14~**


	3. The Briefcase

**Hello! Sorry it's been a little longer than I thought it would be. I've been so busy that I didn't have that much time to finish it in one sitting. Sorry, but that's life. ****Now that I think about it, I should probably be working on my inspirational speech which is, like, due tomorrow. I haven't even started it yet. Oops. At least I know what I want to do it on. Actually,_ who_ is a more appropriate word (two, actually): _Samwise Gamgee_. That's right, people. My speech is about a _Lord of the Rings _character. Be jealous of my mind! **

**I would like to apologize in advance for the shortness of this chapter. I promise that the next one will be longer.**

* * *

"You know that they're not telling us everything, right?" said Lizzie from Peter's bed.

"I know," agreed Peter, picking their father's brown briefcase off of his bedroom floor, a curious look in his eyes.

After dinner, the twins went up to Peter's room to talk more about what had happened shortly before their meal. Peter had taken everything he'd found inside out of the briefcase and lined them up in a neat line. For the past half hour, the siblings further examined their father's belongings- which consisted of a train token, a calculator, a laminated ID badge for Oscorp, and a few pens and pencils. At one point, Peter had found the case which held their father's old glasses. When he tried them on, he informed Lizzie, once returning from his private bathroom, that he and their father apparently shared the same prescription.

Lizzie watched her brother unzip the briefcase's zipper. "I just want to know more about our parents, you know? But I feel like instead of Mom and Dad we're learning about strangers."

A barely audible _click_ filled the area. Peter and Lizzie shared a quick glance before he pulled out a dark-manilla folder. Peter got off of his skateboard, closed his open door, and used his homemade, high-tech lock before sitting back down. Once he felt their privacy was well protected, Peter pulled the folder all the way out of the brief case. On the front cover was what looked like a sticker with two crossed Os on it.

"Are you going to open it or what?" asked Lizzie, having grown impatient.

When she stretched her arm out to grab the folder, Peter slapped her hand away. Lizzie drew it back, glare narrowed into slits.

"I'm getting there, I'm getting there," said Peter before opening the file.

On the inside sat a small stack of papers, all of them covered in notes and formulas that Lizzie couldn't even dream of coming up with. Luckily, one of them _at least _had some idea as to what the scribbles meant.

"What's this?"

Or maybe not.

"Zero, zero, decay rate algorithm."

"Any chance you know whatever the heck that means?" asked Lizzie, leaning forward in hopes of getting a better view.

Before Peter could respond, someone knocked on his door, gaining their attention. They shared a look before Peter hid the file in the brief case and called, "Yeah, one sec, one sec." After scattering his father's things, Peter sat in his desk's swivel chair and hit the knob which unlocked the door.

Meanwhile, Lizzie reclined on Peter's bed and bent her knees which allowed her to cross one leg over the other. She placed her arms behind her head, foot moving up and down to a beat of its own making.

"Come in," they called in unison.

Not even a mere second later, Uncle Ben opened the door. "You two okay?" he asked, acknowledging both of the twins.

Lizzie gave a thumbs up while Peter said, "Yeah. What's up?"

When Peter looked at him, Uncle Ben's eyes widened in shock. "Oh, my gosh. You look just like him," said Uncle Ben.

"Who? Peter? Nah. He's too ugly to look like Dad," Lizzie said, earning a glare from Peter. Lizzie stuck her tongue out in response.

"Can I come in?" Uncle Ben asked, amusement twinkling in his gaze.

"Yeah," said Peter while nodding his head.

When their uncle entered, he closed the door behind him. Glancing down at Peter's desk, he noticed a solved Rubrics Cube (Lizzie was still bitter about how Peter had solved it multiple times before she could even solve it once. The jerk). "Listen. I don't have much education. You kids know that," Uncle Ben reminded them as he sat at the head of the bed, inches away from Lizzie's feet. "Heck, I stopped being able to help you with your homework when the two of you were ten.

"What I'm trying to say is. . . . I know it's been rough for you without your mom and dad. And I know we don't talk much about them."

"Yeah, it's alright," Peter said with a shrug as if he didn't care.

"No. It's _not _alight," interrupted Uncle Ben, making his point clear. "I wish I could change it, but I can't." There was a pause before Uncle Ben said, "Curt Connors."

"Huh? Who's that?" wondered Lizzie as she sat upright, her curiosity having been ignited.

"He's the guy in the picture with your dad. They worked together for years and they were close. But after that night, we never saw him again. He never even called. Not once."

"Really? Nothing? Even though they were close and all?" Lizzie asked, eyebrow arched. It befuddled Lizzie how someone who was not only the person you worked with but your _best friend _as well never once gave their condolences to said friend's family after such a great tragedy.

"Go figure." Looking at his nephew, Uncle Ben nodded his head towards Peter's computer. "She's pretty," said Uncle Ben, having referred to the girl, Gwen, displayed on its screen.

It wasn't a secret to Lizzie that her brother had a major crush on her friend (they_ were _twins, after all ).

Peter looked away, slightly embarrassed, as their uncle got up to leave. As he was about to close the door, Peter said, "Uncle Ben?"

"What?"

"You're a pretty great dad, alright?"

"I second that," chirped Lizzie while holding her hand up in the air.

Uncle Ben, both touched and stunned, looked like he was going to cry or shed a few tears. Glancing at the floor, the corner of his lips twitching into a small grin, Uncle Ben thanked them and wished both a good-night.

Once he was gone, Lizzie looked as Peter, a smug smile on her face. "I told you they knew more than they were letting on."

Peter, in reply, rolled his eyes, turned to face his computer, and mumbled, "Shut up."

~A~T~O~W~A~R~

It didn't take them long to find out more about Curt Connors. It wasn't much of a surprise to learn that he was a scientist like their father. The second thing they'd found (the first being the article about the plane crash their parents had suffered thirteen years ago) was the news article with the picture Peter had found earlier that evening. Curt Connors was a one-armed man who, like their father, wished to find the cure to cure all disease and physical handicaps.

From what Lizzie read over Peter's shoulder, she found what they had once dreamed extremely fascinating. She didn't know half of the scientific words and terms used in the story, but she knew enough to know that their ambition was their strength as well as their weakness.

The final website (out of six or seven, Lizzie lost count forever ago) was Dr. Curt Connors' which further explained his goals of his experiments as well as displayed the one thing which caught their eye: The department offered internships. Unfortunately, they were now closed.

"Well, guess we can't get in now," said Lizzie, gaze still locked on the blaring screen.

"Says you."

Lizzie raised an eyebrow. "What are you suggesting, Mr. Parker?" she asked, having already figured out what Peter wanted to accomplish.

From years of experience, Lizzie grew to learn that once Peter set his mind and sight on something he wouldn't give up so easily. She could no longer keep track of all the times her brother found some way to get what he wanted. It was an admirable quality, but it sometimes got annoying as well as on Lizzie's nerves.

Peter, having expected her question, said, "I, ah, um. I'm not sure yet, but I'm going to figure it out."

"So, in other words,"– Lizzie's hands were in a prayer position, giving her the appearance of a deep-thinker– "you're going to improvise."

"Yeah," admitted Peter while rubbing the back of his head, a slightly embarrassed grin framed by his lips. "I guess you could say that."

"Well, good luck with that," Lizzie said, slapping her kneecaps before getting up and heading for the door. "Tell me when your master plan succeeds!"

"Wait! Don't you want to know more about Dr. Connors?" asked Peter, a curious and slightly confused look on his face.

"Well, yeah. But I tend to go for things that have more thought put into them."

"This has thought put into it," defended Peter.

"Oh, yeah? Tell me your genius plan, Pete. If it's freaking brilliant, I'll get down on my knees and say, 'I'm not worthy! I'm not worthy!'"

Peter opened his mouth to say something but then quickly closed it, realizing that whatever he wanted to say wouldn't help his case.

Lizzie gave a light chuckle. "Thought so. Night, Pete. See you tomorrow."

"Night, Liz," Peter called out.

His sister blew a kiss before closing the door and heading to her room for the night.

Once she entered her bedroom and had closed her door, Lizzie walked towards her keyboard, the song she was currently composing lying on the stand where she'd left it the previous evening. Sitting down in front of the instrument, Lizzie turned it on, placed her giant headphones over her ears, and continued writing her music piece.

Piano had always given her solace since she was four years old. In fact, one of the ways Lizzie dealt with her parents' death was taking up lessons, learning how to put notes together on a page, and losing herself in song. The emotions she felt throughout her childhood was passionately put into music. This eventually paid off after many years of lessons. In fact, it was her teacher who encouraged her talent and begged her to stick with piano. Lizzie took his words to heart and the rest, as they say, was history.

Lizzie had become so lost in her music that it wasn't until well after midnight when she fell asleep right where she was.

* * *

**Fin! I hope you liked it :) Oh! And one more thing before I go. The tumblr account I'm working on for my _Spider-Man _stories is almost halfway done. I just have to add a few more things and then I can go back and edit it. I promise I'll post a link on my profile so all you have to do is click it.**

**Well, until next time, see you all later :)**

* * *

**~Edited 06/25/14~**


End file.
